But it won't completely die, because the circumstances keep calling it forth.

What is this thought? Switching leaders, of course. More bluntly, dumping Scott Morrison.

A Labor primary vote tracking above the magical 40 per cent mark and a potentially unbridgeable 10-point opposition lead, in two-party-preferred terms, is taxing Coalition morale. Fear abounds.

When Anthony Albanese drew level with Morrison in last week's Newspoll - both men registering 42 per cent as the better prime minister - unthinkable thoughts returned.

Shaun Micallef joked that at 42-all, the electorate didn't think either was better. Statistically this is true, but Liberals know that an opposition leader matching it with the holder of the office is rare.

And this close to an election, portentous.

Canvassing an unlikely late switch to Treasurer Josh Frydenberg, one former Liberal told me "Don't write it off, because you know it makes sense, and there will be some persuasive arguments whispered between MPs once they are gathered in Canberra next week."

Then the ex-MP added pointedly: "These boys are going to look pretty stupid going off the cliff with Morrison when it was plain he was their main negative with voters."

Could some marginal-seat MPs decide they're better off paying the transaction cost of a change if it means holding their own seats for a term or two in the wilderness? Fortune favours the brave, right?

As John Howard used to say, "Politics is governed by the iron laws of arithmetic."

The risks, though, are huge.

As noted last week, you can already tell the Frydenberg option looms large in Morrison's calculus, because the deputy Liberal leader was explicitly not sent up to the flood regions during the PM's COVID isolation to (i) fast-track federal relief and (ii) stress the federal Coalition's previously anaemic empathy.

The contrast between Morrison's bushfire reluctance and his more sympathetic heir apparent responding to the floods could have been embarrassing - perhaps leadership-ending.

Despite his own baggage from that disaster, or more likely because of it, Morrison preferred that the government take the hit from its leader being absent, rather than have the more relatable Treasurer connecting with victims and showing how crisis leadership can be done.

Morrison, whose desperation is now obvious in adolescent gibes at Albanese for trimming down, is among the luckiest politicians I've reported on, considering the way events seem to break his way and obstacles dissolve right when it matters.

Think back to his "special" endorsement for Cook in 2007, his swift promotion to Joe Hockey's treasury post when Abbott flamed out, or his up-the-middle dash to Malcolm Turnbull's vacated chair.

And of course, his "miracle" 2019 election win, during which he rode the good fortune of a politically high-risk Labor platform burdened by tax increases.

Morrison was even lucky, in career terms, to have the pandemic arrive in early 2020, just as his Hawaii holiday and the "sports rorts" controversy threatened to scuttle his directionless premiership.

Then this year, the global (and thus national) security outlook darkened just when he needed an issue on which to exploit the advantages of office and lift him above the domestic fray.

Viewed this way, even the flood disaster offered Morrison a golden pre-election opportunity to wipe the slate clean from his mystifying bushfire/climate/vaccine tardiness.

Yet staggeringly, he fluffed it, reverting to type by showing his government's tendency to go missing and then hide behind process when pinged.

For a PM whose own five-point plan lists cutting red tape (at number 1), the government's decision-making process towards a financial relief package has been unconscionably slow, irksome and complex - the very definition of "red tape".

That's what happens when your government is more shopfront than warehouse.

Devastated victims were left dangling between state and federal promises; between local government areas in Coalition seats and those outside; and between the policy and insurance uncertainties of "go figure" and GoFundMe.

Speaking of GoFundMe, word around Canberra is that Peter Dutton (who set up such a page to help flood victims) has asked the odd colleague how they think things are going. The answer might be obvious enough, but it's the question that feels subversive.

MORE MARK KENNY:

A switch to Dutton would be a brave call, as it carries the extra risk that he is no more sellable than Morrison. That said, Dutton's critics acknowledge he at least stands for something, even if it is all a bit combative and China-baiting for middle-ground voters.

Still, if the leadership comes down to personal relationships either before the election or after, Dutton's pastoral reach and conservative authenticity could count. It might be enough for some to abandon an incumbent famous for declaring "I'm the Prime Minister" while acting more like a time minister - happier to hold power than to use it.

Frydenberg, however, remains the only sane choice if the plan is to have a shot at winning or at limiting the losses.

Late-term leadership changes have occurred before, such as Gillard replacing Rudd in 2010, Rudd replacing Gillard in 2013, and Turnbull replacing Abbott in 2015. But each challenge begat the next, and none of the victories proved durable.

In any event, such spills are practical only when all MPs and senators are in Canberra and when party room meetings are scheduled.

Depending on when the election is called, there are just two meetings programmed, and only three days between now and the election when both houses are sitting.

The first of these is budget day, Tuesday March 29.

A leadership spill that week is inconceivable. Well, unprecedented. OK, let's call it a one-in-500 year event, perhaps?